


Pressing Forward

by Merfilly



Series: Walk a Different Road [18]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparky doesn't care for things Mikaela does, and thinks he's got a way to start fixing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressing Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Background Xeno relationship implied. Canonical Hatchlings being developed.

Sparky onlined his optics and tested his sensor array. He could feel his brood mates, including the two that were his complements, still in recharge. Spark-Nurturer was near, not in full recharge, but in a low-energy mode. Brood-Carer was not present, and that was mildly distressing. The femme was bad about not staying near to them, where she could be protected by the growing clutch's abilities.

With more grace than his trine-mates had developed, Sparky shifted out of the pile and onto the floor, immediately causing Spark-Nurturer's systems to cycle toward awareness. That suited the small flier who flitted, half-walking and half-gliding, to the large mech.

::Brood-Carer gone. Fight. Not right.:: Sparky's glyphs were better developed than his clutchmates, like most of his progress, but still not up to the rich layers of true Cybertronian.

::The femme is only organic, and limited,:: Spark-Nurturer replied, somewhat testily.

::Do not want limit. Want Carer.::

::It will extinguish before you are even fully developed,:: was the reply to that, steady and cool.

Sparky considered, then looked at his resources. His optics wandered back to the clutch, and an irritation at their slowness ran through his stream of glyphs as he protested this state of affairs.

::The species is nonviable. This planet will be ours in due time, as they destroy themselves even without Decepticon influence,:: Spark-Nurturer told him, reaching down to lift the youngling up to his side. ::Your destiny is not crafted by the organic.::

::Mine.::

A laugh quietly filled the space between them, and Sparky considered shearing off a piece of Spark-Nurturer's armor, thinking he was being mocked. ::You are much like me when I was a naive mech.::

::Code? Frame?:: Sparky asked, curious. Spark-Nurturer was the only flier in their limited world, though the Prime sometimes felt like a flier.

::Yes.::

Sparky looked to the door, then back at the full-size mech. ::Find Brood-Carer?::

::While it would be hilarious to let you intrude on the organic while she is with her Prime, no. You still need rest.:: Spark-Nurturer shifted, laying back and pulling Sparky down to rest near to his central transformation seam. ::The organic is not code or frame.::

::Mine,:: Sparky sent and hissed, but for now, he would do as told, letting his systems settle down.

`~`~`~`~`

"That makes the debate moot," Ratchet said with a long-suffering burst of static in his fields. He, Mikaela, and Jazz were overseeing the newest molt of the hatchlings... not that they were really hatchlings now, given that they were streamlining into final frame types, if not size.

"I always wondered how they grew," Mikaela murmured, fascinated by the way they shook off loose plates, then cannibalized them for the elements in them. Naked protoforms lengthened visibly, before they began extruding new armor to cover the longer lines. It was a faster process than humans, and a little unnerving. She stepped in to stop a fight between two of them over whose bit of armor was the current snack, before climbing back up onto her table.

"In times of war, or even peace when a mech's coding was highly needed, swiftly, the protoform would be 'thinned' to a long enough form to fit inside a pre-made frame, complete with the extra processing space to allow more code modules to be uploaded and bring them fully to maturity," Ratchet told her. "Such mechs are often more limited in free-thinking, and it sometimes results in only a drone-level sentience."

"The maturity rate for a hatchling to full functionality can take up to a vorn, but these little guys..." Jazz shrugged his shoulders with his hands out and palms up. "They're pushing hard to get there faster."

"It's Sparky. He's not happy with their limits," Mikaela told the other two. "Starscream is a little vexed with them, he thinks they are making themselves targets too fast."

Jazz and Ratchet exchanged a glance; they had thought Starscream was the one pushing it to happen.

"Learn anything more about our defector?" Jazz asked idly.

Mikaela looked at him, then Ratchet, her lips pursed tight and thin. "I don't ask." //It's not a lie. Starscream betrays little things to me, but I don't ask.// She knew the flier just wanted to go home, secure his place above the others there, and rebuild their numbers. Starscream had not given up on power, but his view of the war and reality had parted a long time ago.

"Alright, Mikki," Jazz said, dropping the matter again. They all turned to watch as the trine creeled with the discomfort of forcing wing growth, and noted the two gestalt groups had differing land-based modes developing.

"Constructors," Ratchet said, pointing to the nearer group.

"They look more like us," Jazz said of the other group. Those were developing just four wheel-wells, and nothing remarkable in the way of tool forms.

"Well, look who they have around to imitate," Mikaela pointed out, though her eyes kept falling back to Sparky. She really wished she understood what had gotten into the youngling's processor that he had been pushing the others so hard to recharge and gorge on supplies.

`~`~`~`~`

Soundwave held his arm up and Laserbeak came to land on it. As Megatron watched, the spy projected a visual of the thirteen Decepticons nested in the heart of Autobot territory. They saw the small fliers practicing aerial maneuvers while not one but two gestalts dodged through obstacles to get to one another and form their completed unit.

"Jhiaxus spurred further development, it seems," Megatron rumbled.

"In those forms, it is likely their processing capability has reached optimal training capacity," Soundwave prodded.

"Indeed, Soundwave. I believe it is time to reclaim our property." Megatron smiled, his scarred face finally repaired enough to allow vision from the optic there. The smile was full of relish for the coming swath of destruction he would bring to the Autobots... and his treacherous former commander.

`~`~`~`~`

"Did he have to pick bronze?"

The complaint from Sideswipe was not unexpected, but Optimus Prime was not in full disagreement. It was an unusual color for one of the jet-fighter class. "He does not seem as tightly bound to the other pair as has been observed in other fliers," was all Optimus said, though.

"Just like Starscream," came the low addition from Jazz.

"They are their own individuals, though." Optimus Prime did not want the trio, nor the two gestalt groups to be victims of prejudice.

"And we'll make certain they stay that way," Jazz promised him. Sideswipe remained unconvinced.


End file.
